Knowledge is Power, and Power Corrupts
by PhoenixCrystal
Summary: The fateful conversation between Tom Riddle and Horace Slughorn on the matter of Horcruxes... what if someone had overheard? And what would happen to that person, if caught? This is the story of Jane Chase... the girl who heard too much. Tom/OC, in a way.
1. Knowledge is Power

This is... not my usual story, let's put it that way... *laugh* This is much darker and creepier than my stories usually are... not that I don't have dark and creepy material, I just also usually have lots of humor and light, which this story is severely lacking in.

For right now, I'm calling this a one-shot. Or a two-shot, rather, seeing as I've had to break it up into two chapters because it was getting so long. However, if people actually find/read/enjoy this, I could be persuaded to make it longer. I may choose to do so anyway, but I would like to see if anyone even finds this, first.

I enjoy reviews very much! Please let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter universe... but I do own my OC.

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She hadn't meant to stay... to hear... all she'd wanted to do was grab what she'd left behind, so that she could do homework when she reached her common room.

None of that mattered now...

XXXXX

An hour earlier

Jane Chase had walked perfectly calmly to Professor Slughorn's office, not suspecting that anything would be strange at the meeting of the "Slug Club," as her Potions master liked to refer to the small group of students he often invited to his office after dinner. She wasn't particularly close to any in the group, but she saw all of them regularly, both at the meetings and elsewhere, and so she tolerated the meetings without much trouble, despite her usual tendency to keep to herself. She actually enjoyed them more often than not, really... but lately she'd had a feeling of unease while at them.

_There's no logical reason why,_ she'd told herself, adjusting her book-bag over her shoulder just before she knocked on the door to the office, _There aren't any new members at the moment, so there's no reason to be nervous. Professor Slughorn just asks questions about our families and our classwork... it isn't as if I have to talk to anyone else, really. _But still, the feeling of nerves, like fanged butterflies within her stomach, clung on, actually causing her to flinch, startled, when the door swung inward with a loud creak.

"Ah, Jane! Come in, come in!" Professor Slughorn was, as always, enthusiastic to see members of his "club." He ushered her inside, smiling broadly, and Jane managed a small grin back. "We've all been waiting for you, my dear, and hoping you'd arrive before it got too much later," the portly, friendly-looking man told her, now gesturing towards the table where a cluster of students already sat, "And Tom was just presenting me with a lovely gift... I shall have to show you, once you're comfortable!" At the sound of the young man's name, Jane blinked in mild surprise, even as the boy in question looked around, apparently to see why he was being mentioned.

… _Tom Riddle? Give someone a gift? I suppose it's possible..._ Jane's eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the idea. Tom, having caught sight of Professor Slughorn returning, had a pleasant smile on his handsome face, making him look the picture of kindliness and generosity, but Jane had never really thought of the young man as being particularly gifted in either area. He could be nice enough when he wanted to be, she supposed. He was highly intelligent, that was true – intelligent enough that he easily could have belonged to Ravenclaw, Jane's own house – and most girls swooned over how good-looking he was, but Jane had never grown either swoon-y over him or enamored of his intelligence. She'd never grown very fond of Tom Riddle, but she'd also never despised him.

Probably because she remembered meeting him on the train, on the way to Hogwarts the very first day...

XXXXX

_She'd been so nervous that day... so many new people, and she had barely any practice interacting with anyone, then, being only eleven and an only child to late-in-life parents. Still, she'd done her best, her bright blue eyes wide as she wandered down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, trying to find a place to sit. Everywhere was full, and it had seemed as though there must not be any other first years, because everyone had seemed so much bigger than her. Not to mention loud; she'd never heard so many loud people in her life until that day: her family's tendency was "silence in all activities unless there's an emergency," so to see people breaking this unspoken rule left and right had been shocking to her, to say the least._

_Finally, though, she'd found a compartment, empty except for one boy who'd looked like he might be starting at Hogwarts as well. Plucking up her courage, she'd entered the compartment, biting her lip as she so often did when nervous._

"_M... m-may I sit here, please?" she'd asked softly, trying her best to be polite. The boy had jumped violently, much more so than Jane had thought necessary – she hadn't exactly snuck in, after all – causing her to likewise jump in sudden nervousness._

"_... what? Why?" The response from the black-haired boy was sharp, nervous, almost hostile. Jane had nearly made a run for it then and there, but then he'd looked down and seen the cage in her right hand. "What's that?" he'd asked, his dark eyes lighting up as he stared intently at the cage._

"_... i-it's my snake," Jane had whispered, twisting her hands before her and swaying slightly on the spot; she only did this when extremely nervous, but this boy had made her want to run as fast and as far as she could. The look of eagerness in his eyes hadn't _helped._ "H-he's called Peter." In a sudden rash decision, despite her fear, she'd blurted out, "I'll let you hold him if you let me sit here... everywhere else is full." _

_The boy had considered this for several seconds, then held his hands out wordlessly for the cage. Jane had handed it over with trembling hands, then sat beside the boy, watching as he opened the meshed door and reached in to remove Peter._

"_Be careful, he might-" she'd began, only to gasp when had Peter slithered straight out onto the boy's hand, just as he always did Jane's, with an air that he'd known the boy forever. "... he's usually a bit nervous of new people... I've never seen him... do that before," she'd murmured, staring as the boy had let Peter slither up his arm and around his neck._

"_Snakes like me," the boy had explained briefly, before looking up at her, a proud light in his dark eyes. "Because I can talk to them. Can you talk to them, too?" Jane had shook her head, her eyes wide, and the boy had looked disappointed, looking away from her and back to Peter, making strange sounds – hisses and growls – in his throat._

"_... what do they say?" she'd whispered then, and the boy had looked back, a sudden smile on his face: a look of pure pleasure, undimmed by the frightening brightness he'd had in his eyes earlier._

_And he'd told her._

XXXXX

Over the years, however, Tom had proven to be rather less friendly... and rather more ruthless. Once they'd gotten off the train and into the school, he hadn't spoken to her, and once the Sorting had taken place – separating them into Slytherin and Ravenclaw – she'd barely even seen him except in class and occasionally at meals, if she happened to look at the Slytherin table. Several years had passed in this manner, with them occasionally speaking within the confines of class, and gradually Jane had heard stories about the boy from the train. He apparently had a fondness for taking out his bouts of anger – which seemed to grow more frequent as the years passed – on fellow students, often ones that didn't really have any means of protecting themselves. He was also apparently fond of stealing: the bigger and more expensive the prize, the better.

She'd ignored him and his growing reputation for both being cruel and for being kind – for, as she'd found out, he could be wonderfully charming when he wanted to be – as they gotten older, but when he'd been made a Prefect, she'd had to focus on him a bit more because she had been given the same placement for her own house. They'd had Prefect duty together a few times, but they had never talked about anything other than trivial matters like classes.

During the strange and horrible events of the year before, her fifth year within the walls of Hogwarts, Jane hadn't even thought for one second of the black-haired boy from Slytherin... she'd been more focused on whether or not more people were going to die. She'd had a moment of curiosity when Riddle had caught the third-year student, Hagrid, setting loose the monster within the school, leading to the half-giant boy's expulsion from Hogwarts, but it was more along the lines of what Riddle had been doing in the dungeons that night. He'd had Prefect duty, it was true, but he'd been set to wander the upper floors, not the lower... she'd seen the schedule the day before. And it had been too early in the night for him to have been going back to his dormitory. Still, she figured her musings hadn't really mattered; the attacks on the school had stopped after that, after all.

And now, in the present, there was the Slug Club, and both of them were members... and right at the moment, the only empty chair in the room other than Slughorn's own was right beside the black-haired boy who could speak with snakes.

Jane just wished he wouldn't smile like that – that sweet, innocent smile. It made her skin crawl.

"Go on, sit down, Jane!" Professor Slughorn pulled the chair beside Tom out for her, and she took the seat, albeit a bit stiffly, and set her book-bag on the floor beside her feet. A few of the others around the table – all of whom where male at this point in the school year – murmured greetings to her, and she nodded back silently in reply. Slughorn resumed his seat, beaming around at them all like a benevolent uncle. "Now, where were we?" he asked, and the other Slug Club members all piped up, resuming the conversation they'd been having before Jane had entered the room.

Jane fidgeted, her fingers playing with the fabric of her uniform skirt as she stared down at the table before her. Her feeling of nervousness was back, and she was in the process of trying to identify its source once more when a voice beside her made her flinch in surprise.

"Sir... is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" Jane didn't even have to look sideways to see the small smirk on Tom Riddle's face as he asked the rather risky question. It wasn't very polite to ask a professor about one of their coworker's doings, Jane thought, but Tom was Slughorn's favorite – everyone knew it – and therefore he got away with a great many things such as this while the Club met.

"Tom... I couldn't tell you if I knew, could I?" Slughorn answered, though, as Jane had suspected he might, he sounded more amused than angry. She glanced up in time to see him fish a piece of what looked like candied fruit out of an elaborate box and pop it into his mouth. "And by the way, thank you for the pineapple; you're quite right, it is my favorite!" The potions master smiled affably, then leaned forward slightly, raising an eyebrow. "But how did you know?" he asked, and Jane wondered silently if the tone in his voice was mock confusion or real. No answer came for several seconds, and she found her blue eyes sliding over to see Tom's reaction to the question. He seemed to be searching for an answer, though the corners of his mouth were quirked up even when his face shifted into a look of innocence.

"... intuition," he answered finally, still looking, in Jane's opinion, as though he was secretly very amused with something.

_Though I could be imagining that..._

"Very well, very well, then... excellent sense you have there, m'boy, I must say," Slughorn told him, then suddenly turned to Jane, starting her with his gaze. She shrank into her seat slightly, unsure of why she was suddenly being singled out. "Jane, m'dear... you're fond of pineapple yourself, aren't you? Like your father?" her professor asked, now beaming at her, "I seem to remember having a conversation about it once... before class, wasn't it?"

"... y-yes, sir, I think so. And I do like it," Jane answered quietly, only to be rather irritated with herself for stammering. She was letting this nervous feeling get to her, whatever it was... she wished to goodness she could figure out what was causing it.

"Then you must have a piece!" Slughorn told her, sliding the box towards her generously, "Seeing as you came late and missed all of the conversation... and there is plenty here to share one piece with a fellow fan of the stuff, eh?" He laughed, and the others laughed, and Jane fought down an irrational shiver when she heard Tom laugh beside her.

_Why am I feeling so nervous right now? … could it be him? … no, that can't be right..._

"Thank you, sir," she answered Slughorn, gingerly taking a slide of the candied fruit out of the box under his smiling gaze. She nibbled at it only to genuinely smile at the flavor; it was very high-quality candied pineapple, obviously: just the right amount of tart and sweet, not to mention delightfully squashy in texture.

"You should thank Tom, as well... I wouldn't have it to offer, save for him," Slughorn suggested, though Jane had the strange feeling that Slughorn wasn't making a suggestion but rather giving her a very tasteful order. Still, she thought, it wasn't a difficult one; all she had to do was tell the boy beside her three words of thanks. She nodded and looked to her right, only to freeze when she realized Tom had already turned to look at her. She had wound up looking directly into his dark eyes, which caused her nervous feelings to spike.

_It is him! … but why?_

"Thank you, Tom," she murmured, and swiftly lowered her gaze, using the pretense of finishing the piece of pineapple as cover to do so.

"My pleasure," Tom answered, and he sounded so genuinely pleased at her thanks that she looked back up sharply, her blue eyes probing his pale face. His expression was almost completely neutral, however, save for a small smile. She nodded once, trying to hide her feelings of nervousness, but the sound of a bell in another part of the room saved her from having to stare at Tom Riddle's dark eyes for any longer.

"Oh gracious! Is it that time already?" Slughorn exclaimed, "Off you go, boys, or Professor Dippet will have us all in detention!" The other boys all began to stand and move in the direction of the door, as did Jane, but Tom stayed where he was, she noticed. She was almost to the door when she remembered her book-bag, which she'd left beside her chair. She was turning to go back and get it when a musical "ping"-ing sound on the other side of the room made her freeze.

"Look sharp, Tom!" she heard Professor Slughorn say, "Wouldn't want to be caught out of bed after-hours..." There was a small silence before Slughorn spoke again; he sounded mildly concerned, now, though, rather than genial. "Is something on your mind, Tom?"

"Yes, sir," came Tom's answer straightaway; unlike his teacher, he sounded perfectly calm – casual, even... quite out of keeping with his apparent problem. "You see, I couldn't think of anyone else to go to. The other professors... well... they're not like you. They might... misunderstand."

Jane felt her skin crawl at this blatant manipulation; Tom was clearly – to her, anyway – wanting to get some sort of information, information that he had to trick a teacher into giving him. He wouldn't be building up this elaborate mixture of flattery and uncertainty otherwise; she'd seen him do this before in order to get out of Prefect duty.

_So what does he want now? And will Professor Slughorn see through it or no?..._

"Go on," came her teacher's voice, and Jane sighed internally.

… _apparently not..._

"I was in the library the other night – in the Restricted Section – and... I read something rather odd, about a bit of rare magic," Tom began, and Jane edged nearer to the conversation, wanting to hear better; if Tom was asking about something in the Restricted Section... well...

… _it could be dangerous, this thing... _

"It was called, as I understand it... a Horcrux." Jane had never heard the word that Tom used before in her life, but something about it caused a shiver to run down her spine.

"... I beg your pardon?" Slughorn asked, sounding rather similar to how Jane was currently feeling: confused and mildly discomforted.

"Horcrux," Tom repeated calmly, "I came across the term while reading. I... I didn't fully understand it." The innocence in his voice was enough to almost make Jane believe him, to believe that he really was just curious about a term he'd read and been confused about, but...

… _this is __Tom Riddle__... he's undeniably brilliant, even if part of his skill is in manipulating people... there's more to this, there __has__ to be!_

"I'm not sure what you were reading, Tom, but this is very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed!" Slughorn stated; for the first time, Jane was aware of a rather shocking fact: her Potions master was _nervous_ about whatever this "Horcrux" was.

"Which is... why I came to you," Tom answered almost hesitantly, and Jane's throat tightened. He was playing this game perfectly, this boy who could speak with snakes... even she, who had been feeling nervous around him earlier; even she, who was currently suspecting him of tricking his professor to get information... even she found herself wanting badly to believe that he really was innocent in all this.

There was a pause of several seconds before Slughorn answered, and when he did, the words sounded almost drug out of him.

"A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul..."

Jane froze in her careful inching forward, suddenly completely unable to move a muscle. It was as though Time itself had stopped for her, locking her within the horror that was Slughorn's answer and Tom's curiosity. She listened with no thoughts of her own as the conversation went on.

"But I don't understand how that works, sir."

"... one splits one's soul and hides part of it in an object... by doing so, you are protected should you be attacked and your body destroyed."

"Protected?"

"The part of your soul that is hidden lives on... in other words, you cannot die..."

Jane had to clap a hand over her mouth to stop the rising whimper in her throat; her throat burned, as though it held bile as well as sound. She had never heard of a more terrible creation in her entire life; why would anyone want to destroy something like their very soul just so that they could avoid death?

… _but Tom Riddle does... I'm sure of it... he wouldn't be asking about this otherwise... _

The wait for further words was almost unbearably long, but finally Tom spoke again, his voice so soft that Jane had to strain her ears to hear.

"... and how does one split his soul, sir?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Tom..."

"... murder..." This answer of Tom's truly was a whisper, but the word carried such weight, such horror, that Jane's ears still managed to catch it.

"Yes... killing rips the soul apart; it is a violation against nature."

"... can you only split the soul... once? For instance... seven..."

"Seven? Merlin's Beard, Tom... isn't it bad enough to consider killing one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces...!" Slughorn sounded positively terrified, and Jane didn't blame him in the slightest. However, her Potions master still had his fondness of Tom as a shield for his sanity – a shield which Jane lacked – and he finally lifted it now. "This is all hypothetical, isn't it, Tom? All academic?"

_No... no, it's not... Tom Riddle wants to kill... he wants to split his soul into seven pieces..._

"Of course, sir." Tom's voice was so soothing, so persuasive... if she'd just believe him, Jane wouldn't have to have this fear anymore, she knew. But she couldn't... especially not when he went on. "It'll be our little secret..."

"... oh!"

The soft whimper of fear escaped Jane's mouth before she even knew it was building behind her lips, but once it was out it seemed to fill the room inescapably: there was no possible way that Tom and Professor Slughorn could miss it... meaning they now knew she was still there. She heard Slughorn gasp sharply, obviously startled out of his internal rationalizations, and a soft hiss from the same vicinity seemed to signal Tom's reaction. The boy's dark head abruptly poked out from behind the pillars that had blocked Jane from the sight of the speakers, and seconds later, before she could even draw another breath, he was standing directly before her, staring down at her with flat black eyes. Jane trembled all over, wondering... wondering...

"Oh... oh, Jane, m'dear... you gave us both such a fright!" Slughorn murmured, likewise coming out from behind the pillars, "What are you still doing here? You should be on your way to bed!"

"... I-I..." Jane tried to answer, but it came out as a squeak. She struggled with herself for several seconds before managing to speak in a more normal voice. "I came back... because I realized I'd forgotten my book-bag... I've got an essay to work on, for Transfiguration, a-and it's in there, a-a-and..."

"It's alright, I understand, Jane... go and get your bag," Slughorn instructed her, patting her on the arm; Jane wondered if it was her own tremors that gave the illusion that his hand was trembling as badly as hers, or if his really were. Sucking in a wavering breath, she trotted hastily over to the table, digging around for her bag for a few seconds before holding it up, a tremulous smile on her lips. Slughorn nodded to her, and she hurried back, making it all the way to the door before her professor spoke. "You'd best walk with Tom, as well... one prefect alone looks a bit suspicious, but two together... no-one will stop you. Off you go." And before she could protest, Jane was alone in the corridor with Tom Riddle... the boy who could speak to snakes, the boy who wanted to split his soul into seven pieces through murder.

She remained frozen in one place before him, unable to even raise her eyes off the floor. She was trembling, and it was obvious, she knew. She didn't want to think, she didn't want to do _anything_, but she was a true Ravenclaw: even in the depths of spiraling fear, she couldn't stop her mind from contemplating the results of what she'd heard.

_He knows I heard... he knows... what will he do with me? Will he hurt me? Kill me? Will I be the first to die for his seven-split soul?_

"How much did you hear?"

The words came so abruptly and so harshly that Jane jumped horribly, a small squeak of nerves escaping her. She was never this flighty, she thought, but truly... she'd never had reason to be so, before this.

"... a-all of it," she admitted without thinking, only to realize what she'd just said. She looked up hastily, as though her gaze could catch her words before they could reach the boy standing before her, but the sight of Tom's face told her it was too late to catch elusive phrases. His dark eyes burned out of the shadows they stood in, locked on her own in an inescapable gaze.

"... and what, pray tell, will you do now?" he asked, his tone eerily light in sharp contrast to the almost predatory look in his eyes. Jane's mouth opened and closed several times in perfect silence before she was able to react at all, and when she did, it wasn't with words; her body finally remembered how to move, and her fight-or-flight response kicked into overdrive. Within seconds, she'd whirled around and started off at a full sprint down the corridor, heading she didn't even know where... away from Tom was good enough for her, as far as a direction for her feet to take her went.

For a girl who wasn't often physically active, she made good time, considering... or so she thought and hoped... until quite suddenly she was flying sideways instead of forwards. She hit the wall of the corridor hard enough that she had the breath knocked completely out of her, but still a sharp whine of pain ripped from her throat as she felt the finely-formed bones in her right wrist shatter. She slid to the floor in agony, her bright blue eyes as wide as a deer's when it sees its hunter as she stared up at Tom Riddle, who had pulled his wand on her in order to stop her flight.

"A good try," he murmured to her, crouching down before her in an almost genial fashion, a small smirk twisting his lips upwards, "But I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Jane Chase... not without answering me. What will you do now?"

"... don't... hurt..." The words barely managed to force their way out of her, but Jane's intention was clear in every line of her body; she pressed herself back against the wall, uselessly scrabbling for her own wand with her left, dominant hand while also trying to support her ruined right appendage. She could feel a scream rising within her, and she struggled to catch her breath, hoping to be able to let it out. If she could scream, people might hear... people might come and stop this... this whatever-it-was.

"Don't hurt what?" Tom asked, tilting his head at her curiously, "Don't hurt you? … Isn't it a bit late for that? I'm fairly certain I heard bones breaking." Jane whimpered, pulling back even further from him, wondering in horror how he could say such a thing with such a straight, uncaring face.

"... don't..." she whispered, then drew in as deep a breath as she could, preparing to scream at the top of her lungs.

"_Silencio!"_ Tom's wand was up before the scream could leave her, and the spell he cast choked it off before she could even emit a single cry. Jane expelled the gathered air in a rush – the loudest sound she was capable of at the moment – before managing to catch hold of her wand handle. She had it half-drawn when– _"Expelliarmus!_ Honestly... I expected more from a Ravenclaw..." Tom caught her wand easily, stowing it away into the pocket inside the breast of his cloak before smirking at her again. "Clearly, you're not intending to keep that little conversation a secret... am I right?"

Jane instinctively shook her head violently, hesitated, then just as vigorously nodded, realizing this might be the wiser choice. If Tom Riddle really was intending to make Horcruxes, and therefore intending to murder people to do so, it probably wasn't a good idea to upset him in any way. The young man in question, however, didn't seem to like her initial choice, for a soft hiss escaped him at her refusal.

"No? … yes? Heh. Don't try to cover up for yourself, Jane Chase... I'm watching you." He tilted his head at her again, watching her with wicked dark eyes. "I'm going to have to ensure that you forget everything that you heard," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice was so soft, "But I'm going to have to, ah, punish you first. Even Memory Charms aren't infallible... unfortunately... but fortunately, there are other ways of hiding memory."

"_... please..."_ Jane mouthed the word, the beginnings of tears building in her eyes. One broke free and trickled down her cheek. She knew she should run, but she was paralyzed with fear and pain. All she could do was stare up at Tom Riddle, mouthing silent pleas. _"Please... please, Tom..."_

"Oh, don't snivel," Tom ordered her in an almost bored tone, flicking his wand at her and Immobilizing her with magical bonds far stronger than mere terror. "I'm afraid you can't be awake for this... I don't want you knowing where we're going." He flicked his wand again, and Jane's sight, mind, and self went into darkness...

* * *

We shall see where Tom takes her and what he does to her there in the next section.

Again, please review! And thank you for reading.


	2. and Power Corrupts

Here it is... the second half of the story. I did intentionally leave it open-ended so that if I'm begged to continue (or I decide to myself), it will be easy to pick right up and keep going.

I'm extremely grateful for the reviews I've gotten... I was pleased to hear that I managed to portray Tom as eerily as I'd hoped to do. For reference, I did base him off of both "older but still school-age" Tom Riddles, as played by Christian Coulson and Frank Dillane. For those of you who are also wondering what Jane looks like, please go to my profile for a link to some pictures on my DeviantArt... you can find pictures of her and Tom (both versions) there. There will also be a poll there, on whether or not you want me to continue this story (you can tell me in a review or private message if you'd like, but I'd also like to see nice solid numbers on this... especially since any potential further chapters won't be published for a few weeks, seeing as I have to finish school first).

Also for reference, this section is rather more... graphic than the first. Just a warning. XD Also, I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but large blocks of italics are memories of Jane's.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter universe, but I do own my OC.

* * *

"_Snakes like to tell secrets... they're good at keeping them, too."_

"_Really? … what does Peter say?"_

" – _He says you like to be alone... Do you really like to be alone? I do, but... only because everyone else is so stupid and cruel."_

"_... really? Who's been cruel to you? My parents are nice... they're not cruel... haven't you got nice parents?"_

"_My parents are dead."_

"_Oh... oh, I'm so sorry! I... I-"_

"_Oh, shut it. It doesn't matter... – Your snake likes to talk. He says you talk to him sometimes, but not in his language. He says it's nice to talk to someone he can understand."_

"_... does he? Can you tell him that I like him very much and that I'll be getting him another mouse to eat soon?"_

" – _He says he knows that already... but he says thanks anyway."_

"_... I-I'm Jane Chase, by the way... nice to meet you... sorry I forgot to tell you my name before."_

"_It doesn't matter. – "_

"_... what's your name?"_

"_... must you know?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Tom Marvolo Riddle. Now hush, Jane Chase, and let me talk to your snake."_

XXXXX

When Jane came to, she was immediately aware of the sharp agony in her wrist once more. It was her whole world for the space of a flurry of heartbeats, and she wanted nothing more than to scream as a release for the pain. It took her breath completely, however, and so she was reduced to merely lying perfectly still, her entire being focused on that one area...

… _wait... lying? What am I lying on? Where am I?_

Her eyelids fluttered, trying to open so that she could learn her location. Even this simple action brought pain, however, and she was forced to remain still again until it subsided. But she was a Ravenclaw, and a curious one, at that... it didn't take her long before she was trying once more to open her eyes.

"Awake, I see. I can't imagine why it took you so long to revive... I cast _Rennervate _nearly five minutes ago."

The voice from somewhere above and to the side of Jane had her flinching, only to gasp in pain as she jostled her wrist in the movement. That voice... it reminded her of why her wrist was hurting... and of all that she'd overheard.

_Tom Riddle... the boy who can speak to snakes... the boy who wants to make Horcruxes. The boy who wants a seven-part soul._

Her blue eyes finally wavered open, and the first sight to reach them was that of Riddle himself, crouching several feet away, much as she'd last seen him: a smirk still decorated his lips, and his dark eyes burned even more brightly than they had previously. She felt the sudden urge to back away, seeing his eyes like that; he looked like a predator... a black leopard, perhaps, waiting to spring down upon a gazelle. She forced her body to move – even though it hurt terribly to do so – and managed to get herself into a sitting position, though her head swam at even that relatively simple movement.

A swift glance around her revealed that she was in a darkened room – it appeared to be quite large due to the depths of the shadows once the light from the torches faded into them – but more than that she couldn't tell. She wasn't anywhere in the dungeons that she recognized, however... or anywhere else in the castle that she knew, for that matter.

"_... where am I?"_ she tried to ask, only to realize that the Silencing Spell was still on her. She gestured almost timidly at her mouth, doubting that Riddle would grant her the ability to speak but attempting to bring the matter to his attention anyway. He rolled his dark eyes, looking exasperated for a moment, before tugging a wand – her wand, she noticed – out of his cloak.

"I'll give you back your voice, Jane Chase... as long as you remember that I'll take it away again if you talk too much. But reading lips does get tedious." He flicked her wand at her, and Jane felt something in her throat shift, as though the words she hadn't been able to release had formed a blockage that had just been removed.

"Where am I?" she immediately repeated, instantly irritated to hear that her voice was, most unusually, high-pitched and trembling with nerves. Tom raised an eyebrow at her, otherwise remaining perfectly still.

"... do you honestly think I'm going to answer that? How foolish." He tilted his head a hair to the left, his eyes never leaving her. "However did you manage to get Sorted into Ravenclaw, if this is the level your brain lowers itself to when under stress?" Jane gaped at him for several seconds, not even sure how to take this, but a surge of anger welled up in her suddenly. This boy, who had asked for such horrible information and then had hurt her for over-hearing, was now taunting her about not reacting well in this sort of circumstance.

… _who the hell does he think he is?_

"I've never been threatened with torture before," she retorted stiffly, her left hand fumbling upwards to push her dark hair back from her face, where it was attempting to block her vision. "And I've never heard of... Horcruxes... either." The word felt foul in her mouth, and she shivered all over again, remembering what the things were for, Professor Slughorn's description running through her mind.

"_A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul... one splits one's soul and hides part of it in an object... by doing so, you are protected should you be attacked and your body destroyed. The part of your soul that is hidden lives on... in other words, you cannot die..."_

Tom's laugh in answer made her shiver all over again; it sounded so innocent, somehow, and yet the very innocence of it promised darkness and pain for the listener.

"Torture's not actually all that bad... then again, in recent years, I've only ever been on the giving end... I seem to remember it not being as pleasant the other way around. But, with careful focus, roles can be reversed." He leaned slightly towards her, his tone conversational despite his horrible choice of topic. "Not in this case, I'm afraid. You'll learn that very quickly, Jane Chase... I say roles can be reversed with careful focus, but no-one can focus more carefully than I... case in point... _Crucio."_

Jane had thought she'd been in pain before, but the sheer fire of agony brought about by the flick of her wand in Tom's hand at her took her to a whole new level. She collapsed to the flagstones, her body thrashing and jerking as though she was in the midst of a seizure; she wanted badly to scream, but even that release had been robbed from her: the pain was so intense that she couldn't even draw breath, yet the bliss that unconsciousness might have brought her never came, either. The spell held her in a state of wakefulness far more lucid than any she'd ever felt before, which was almost worse than the pain; she couldn't avoid the agony in the slightest, or the lack of ability to breathe: she was trapped in the fires of Hell without even a gasp of air or a wavering of attention to spare her sanity.

Tom raised her wand from her, breaking the spell, and Jane's body went limp, flopping down from its paroxysms like a dead fish. Air rushed into her lungs in a great wave, and she choked, gagging on the very thing that was trying to save her. She felt her stomach heave, and she vomited her long-forgotten dinner – shepherd's pie and Earl Gray tea, as well as the single slice of candied pineapple – all down her front. A dark chuckle an inch away from her ear had her retching again, but only burning liquid arose from her stomach this time. She tried to squirm away from Tom, who had come up just beside her while she had been choking and spluttering, but he grabbed her wrist – her broken right one – in an inescapably strong grasp. She managed to scream, then, feeling the broken bones grinding together as he stood and began to drag her across the floor by her arm.

"Nooo no please! _Please_, Tom!" She tried to get her feet under her, so that she wouldn't be hanging from his grip by only her agonized wrist, but he whirled about and slapped her sharply across the face, a frown darkening his nearly-black eyes even further.

"You're begging _already_? Honestly, how weak are you, Jane Chase? One Cruciatus Curse and a few broken bones, and you're already pleading with me?" He scoffed as he drug her one final foot before flinging her arm down so that it struck the flagstones hard enough to make Jane scream again. "This disappoints me... I've always thought you were stronger than this... and don't forget what I said about taking your voice again; screams are nice, but I'm not even doing anything right now. Know the time and place, girl."

"Wha- w-what do you mean?" Jane gasped out, biting her lip until it bled when Tom grabbed her shoulders and hauled her up into a sitting position, propping her up against a structure of some sort. It hurt to speak, even, but the thing he'd just told her demanded further information. "What do you mean, you've always thought I was... stronger than this?"

"Exactly what I said," Tom replied, casually flicking her wand at her again; this time, no pain came, but shackles did: ones that bound themselves about Jane's wrists and ankles, pinning her to the structure against which she leaned. "Not everyone can be the owner of a snake – tempestuous creatures, with a tenancy for shifts in allegiance – and yet I clearly remember you having one on the train, the first day I ever came to Hogwarts... one that liked you, no less." He paused, his head cocked slightly to one side, as though he was trying to think of something. "... what was his name again? Peter? Friendly little thing. How is he, anyway?"

Jane couldn't even think of words for an answer... or even what words were. Tom Riddle... the boy who could speak to snakes, who wanted to murder so that he could live... the boy who had already hurt her more than she had ever imagined possible and who was obviously planning to do even worse to her … was asking about her pet, his voice literally cheerful as he did so. She struggled to force her way past this barrier of ill-logic, but she apparently didn't do it swiftly enough for Tom's liking. He sighed, almost theatrically, at her before his face contorted into a sneer.

"I asked you a question, Jane Chase... now answer me!" He lashed at her with her wand, opening a deep cut into her upper left arm. Jane cried out in agony, struggling against her bonds, only to scream as they wrenched her body upwards, leaving her hanging by her wrists nearly a foot off the floor. This put her at eye-level with Tom, who stepped closer and closer to her until they were nose-to-nose, only an inch separating their flesh. "Answer me..." he repeated in a soft hiss, his dark eyes boring into her blue ones in an inescapable gaze.

"... he's fine... Peter's fine," Jane whimpered, feeling tears building in her eyes as her wrist and newly-cut arm screamed at her. "... why are you doing this, Tom?" she found herself asking suddenly. She knew she ought to stop – this could only bring her more agony – but her affiliation to Ravenclaw was too strong: she had to know, to learn, whatever the cost. "Why are you hurting me like this? You said it yourself... you could just take my memories of what you asked Professor Slughorn... why are you doing _this_, too?"

She was met with silence for several seconds. Tom didn't even move, didn't even blink, as he apparently considered her words. Finally, though, he smiled at her – actually _smiled_, as sweet a smile as he had given Slughorn when the man had complimented him on his gift – and blinked lazily.

"... why not? It's... hmm." He lowered his eyes for a moment, which shocked Jane deeply; she hadn't thought he would ever release her gaze, but now he was staring at their feet, an almost bashful pose of thoughtfulness in every line of his body. "I suppose because it's... fun," he said finally, slowly raising his eyes to her once more. Jane felt her stomach clench again, though this time she wasn't sure if it was in fear, or revulsion, or... something else she couldn't identify.

"... how is this fun?" she whispered, and suddenly she was shouting, her body trembling in its bonds until the chains around her ankles rattled. "How is this fun, Tom Riddle? How is suffering and pain fun? You told me once – on the train – that everyone was cruel to you, that you liked to be alone so you could be away from them... and now you're the one being cruel! How can you _stand_ it? Or are you truly so inhuman now that it doesn't bother you? Wanting to make H-Horcruxes... so you can't die... so you can torture and kill more and more people... just for fun?"

Her voice cracked and shattered on the last word, sudden sobs tearing at her throat. Tears bubbled up out of her eyes, swarming down her face to drip onto her vomit-sodden chest. Tom watched her silently for a moment – several moments, actually, nearly a full minute – before he flicked her wand again. Jane didn't need to hear the spell to recognize the destructive agony it produced: the Cruciatus Curse. She writhed in her bonds, her shoulders nearly tearing from their sockets as she jerked to and fro, her head bashing spastically against the hard stone behind her... and suddenly it was over. She gasped for air again, coughing rather than choking this time, until she could breathe once more; she dangled limply from the shackles about her wrists, her head lolling on her neck, her chin buried in the smelly dampness of her chest.

"... never ask me that again, Jane Chase," Tom told her quietly, but his voice sounded so soft, so... broken, that Jane managed to find the strength to raise her head to look at him. She was startled to see tears in his dark eyes, glistening faintly in the light of the torches. "I want the Horcruxes for power, nothing more. If I have to kill to get it, so be it. But I won't be told by a sniveling little girl what to do... especially one who knows too much, as you do."

He leveled her wand at her again, smiling slightly; it was an actual smile, not a smirk, and nearly heartbreaking in the mixture of empathy and terror it induced in Jane. She didn't want to feel sorry for this monster of a boy, but... she did. Even after the agony he'd put her through, she felt sorry for the boy she'd met on the train... the boy who wanted to hide from pain, the boy whose parents weren't even alive to protect him from fear.

"... I'm sorry..." she whispered, her voice trembling in the strange tumble of emotions she felt, her eyes never leaving Tom's. "I'm so, so sorry..."

"And so am I," he answered, the sincerity in his voice so strong it made Jane's very skin burn... for she could not tell if it was truth or lie. "But you know too much... and that has to change." And with that, he lowered Jane's own wand against her chest, directly above her heart...

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